by Jasmine Walt
Lorelai grabbed Cateline’s wrist, stopping her so they could listen before they went any farther. The room was almost completely quiet. As Lorelai was about to turn and leave, there was the faint rasp of labored breathing. “Get a candle and light a lamp,” she said to Cateline as she moved forward into the shadows to the edge of the king’s settee in the center of his sitting room.
The king lay sweating and gray, cushioned on a mass of pillows, eyes closed. Lorelai stared in horror at her husband. His racking, strained breath… Lorelai had helped the healers enough to know the sound of death. Peverell was not long for this world.
How had this happened?
He sounded like those she had nursed when the Grosse Obscurite had descended on Bas Terrenia. Those who had barely escaped the mist were injured beyond saving. She had nursed their wounds and listened to their dying breaths. They had sounded exactly like her king. She reached out in the dark, fumbling to find his hand. He was already growing cold, though he still lived, the blood receding from the edges of his skin in some final attempt to supply his internal organs.
“Where is the healer?” Lorelai cried out. She raised her hands to clap them and summon servants, but Peverell, in a sudden show of strength, clutched at her hand.
“It is too late, Lorelai,” he said. “There is nothing to be done.”
Servants entered from the shadows as if at a mourners’ feast, plagued by silence and waiting for the moment when their king would take his last breath.
“No,” Lorelai gasped. “We must be able to—”
“Send them away,” Peverell croaked. “I have spent my life surrounded by people. I want to die with only you.”
“Leave,” she choked out, her usually commanding voice strangled with grief. They disappeared into the shadows as she sank to her knees at the edge of his bed. Lorelai was not desperately in love with her husband, but he had been her home and protector for eight years, and now the kingdom would fall to his brother.
She was too late.
Tears welled in her eyes. The queen knew she should have made an effort earlier, two or three, maybe four years ago. Even the beginning of spring would have been smart. But sleeping with someone other than her husband had not been an idea she cherished. Becoming an adulterer, if it was known, brought great shame. But now, it was too late. This had happened too quickly. He had taken a turn for the worse much faster than she had expected. She thought she had more time, and now…her hands trembled as she clasped her husband’s pale, cold hand, the dark blue royal seal ring of Valliere hanging heavily on his ring finger.
Now there was no more time. This was it.
“My king,” she said, pressing her lips against his forehead. “My Peverell…I have failed you.”
His breath came in deep, rattling shakes, and his voice was ragged. “I told him I would give the kingdom to you.”
“What?” Lorelai stroked his forehead.
“Announcing tonight. But…too late. My brother knows. Now you must fight for it. You were always meant to rule, Lorelai.”
His hand fell listlessly to the side, and he descended into racking breaths. Fight for the kingdom? Did she dare stand at the deathbed of her husband and claim an unborn heir in her womb who didn’t exist? Lorelai swallowed hard.
Her brain was in turmoil. Her heart clenched.
Could she not simply go to the remnants of Bas Terrenia and pull together what people were left to fight the Grosse Obscurite? Shouldn’t she just focus on the battle against the hellish monstrosities hiding in the dark mist?
“I know you will want to run, Lorelai,” King Peverell whispered. “It is natural. But you must not. The kingdom needs you. And, the saints know, there is nowhere to run.”
“I know, Sire.”
“Take the kingdom and work with the mages to defeat the Grosse Obscurite. Care for the people. Deliver me an heir.”
His cold fingers clenched around Lorelai’s. The grip of a dying man with his last wish on his lips.
“I will do as you ask, my husband.” Lorelai kissed the ring of Valliere. She kneeled there, head bowed on his chest as she listened to his rattled breathing.
With a slight rustle, Guntram melted out of the gloom by the curtains.
“Your choices are rather limited, I’m afraid,” he said.
Lorelai stared at him, blinking. She had to do it. This was the moment when she would be challenged. Even though her husband still lived. She stared Guntram in the eye defiantly, her voice strong. “We were going to make the announcement tonight at the banquet,” she said. “I am with child.”
Guntram’s laughter rang out over his brother’s deathbed, mingling with the rasping breath of the king and fading into the dark gloom lurking in the corners of the room. “You are not with child,” Guntram said. “Don’t you think I have you followed?”
Elba growled at the queen’s side but would not strike unless given the command.
For the briefest of seconds, she considered giving it and ridding the country of this demonic man. But it would do no good. He had a pregnant wife, and Lorelai didn’t have the stomach for murder.
“You have lain with none but my brother in the last eight years. Of this I am sure,” Guntram said. “And I am also very sure my brother has been unable to copulate for more than seven years. Therefore, you could not possibly be pregnant. Unless, perhaps…one of the saints has impregnated you?”
He stepped forward from the shadows. The candlelight danced across the crevices of his features. “Or,” he asked, “have you secretly fornicated with some unsuspecting fool taken in by your fetching face and upturned nose. Someone who believes the throne needs saving? Despite the fact my brother has a perfectly good heir in me.”
“I am pregnant with the king’s child,” Lorelai repeated, drawing herself up regally.
“Woman.” Guntram leaned in, his tone low. “There will be no living child from your womb unless it is of my issue.”
“Over my dead body,” Lorelai said.
He laughed again. “My bone mage is powerful, but I do not believe even he can form a child out of necromancy. I think you are missing my point, Lorelai. I am offering you a way to live.”
“Live?” Lorelai took a step back from the king as Guntram came towards her. It became all too clear to Lorelai. Without a doubt, her husband’s sudden demise was not simply by misfortune or bad circumstance. Whatever was wrong with her husband had been done by Guntram’s hands. “What in all the saints’ names have you done?”
“It is not about what I have done.” Guntram smiled as he walked towards her. “It is about what you will do, Lorelai. The people love you. You are favored, you are appreciated, you have stood faithfully by the king’s side. The people do not want to see you go, but the Law of Inheritance cannot be changed simply at the whim of the people. It was put in place by our ancestors to protect House du Capet for centuries. My brother didn’t have the strength to add to our family line. But I do. And, as his closest blood relative, the moment he dies”—he waved his hand towards where the king lay barely breathing—“the throne is mine. There is nothing you can do about it.”
“You killed him,” Lorelai said.
Guntram continued as if she had not spoken. “I will offer you a place at my side.”
Lorelai’s stomach tightened. “You have a wife,” she said. She did not add there was no way in the demons’ names she would ever share a marriage bed with either Guntram or his devious wife. Although Guntram was evil, she would wager the woman had a hand in the death of the king.
Guntram ignored his dying brother and gripped Lorelai under the arm. He yanked her up against him. The stench of raw onions wafted across her face.
“If you do not stand by my side in marriage and become the submissive wife to me that you were to my brother, then you shall be beheaded for treason.” He leaned into her, grinding out each word slowly.
“Treason?” Lorelai exclaimed. “I have never gone against the king. He is my lord and husband. I onl
y wish to preserve the throne and protect it from a jackass like you.” She pulled back, tripping slightly over her skirt and stumbling against the settee. She glared at Guntram.
His eyes narrowed like daggers on her heart. “There are witnesses, my queen,” he said.
“Witnesses?” Her mind raced. “Witnesses to what?”
“To you soliciting adultery with one of your husband’s knights,” Guntram said smugly.
“What?” Lorelai gasped. She had been walking alone with Taron by the river when she had asked him if he would father a child with her. But there had not been a single soul who could possibly have heard what she said. No one. Except…no. “A sound mage? They are not allowed in court.”
“Under which king’s decree?” Guntram smiled, cocking his head towards the dying king.
“You would risk the ire of Ayanne the Young to bring a mage to council?” Lorelai asked.
“Oh, I will.” Guntram’s smile didn’t waver. “I will not be the cunt of a king my brother was. ‘Will you lie with me and beget a child for the king?’” Guntram asked. “Were those not your exact words?”
Lorelai’s skin went cold. She reached for Elba, snapping her fingers to bring the beast to her side. But she couldn’t refute it. If she opened her mouth, it would just be another lie.
“What disturbs me the most,” Guntram continued, “is you could’ve done this with me years ago. You could have a child of five or six years. Maybe two or more. You must realize, I am not so self-centered that I need to be on the throne. I simply insist the blood of House du Capet stays on the throne. You have disrespected House du Capet. It is not my brother’s fault he could not sire a child, but it is your fault you rejected me.”
“Do you want to lie with someone who does not want you?” Lorelai said the words clearly, trying desperately to reason with him.
He flinched at her words. “Either accept me or die a traitor’s death.”
“But you will need…” Lorelai’s voice trailed off, darkness settling in her stomach. “Taron! What have you done with him?”
“Oh, he’s very comfortable.” A smile played on Guntram’s lips. “He is being well taken care of as he prepares to confess.”
“He will never betray me,” Lorelai said with a certainty she knew to be true. For despite his rejection, Taron would never betray the throne.
“Every man has his breaking point,” Guntram said. “And right now, my bone mage sits with your knight to find exactly what his is. I guarantee you, my queen, he will tell all.”
“What are you doing to him, you bastard?” Lorelai flew at Guntram, but he grabbed her wrists and held her back, laughing. He had fought at the front. He was not a weak man, but the scar by his neck glowed red and angry in the candlelight as the king’s breath shuddered.
“I thought you might like him a little bit,” Guntram said. “But how much, we will soon find out. If you want to save Taron and yourself, you will accept my terms.” He flung her hands away and clapped his hands as servants ran into the room. “The king is dying,” he said. “The queen is beside herself. Escort her to her chambers and keep her there.”
Lorelai’s gaze swept the room, but the Order of the Regent were nowhere to be seen. Only the black knights from House du Beloe guarded the door.
“I cannot leave the king’s side!” Lorelai exclaimed, twisting back towards the king, who lay sprawled on the settee. Servants swarmed around him, and Guntram kneeled by his side.
The king stared blankly at the ceiling.
Guntram, misty-eyed and dark, turned to Lorelai. “The king is dead.”
His tears were false, but Lorelai’s were not. A chill swept over her as the awfulness sank into her chest and she gasped a cold, sharp breath.
The knights of House du Beloe stepped forward, flanking her firmly on both sides. A chancellor pulled the signet ring off the king’s finger and kneeled before Guntram.
“Long live the king,” he said loudly, holding the ring up to Prince Guntram.
“Long live the king,” the servants and knights in the room murmured as they all kneeled on the hard stone floor, heads bowed to Guntram.
Lorelai stood, her hands at her throat, a chill prickling her skin. This was when she should challenge him, announce there was a child in her womb. But it was a lie. A lie too easily found out simply by bringing a mage to her chamber. And the Order was not here. She was defenseless. Guntram stared coolly at her over the bowed heads of his subjects, his lip curling, daring her to say or do something. But she could neither challenge him nor submit. Her husband lay there, moments dead, and her entire world lay in broken stones around her.
Guntram waved a single derisive finger towards the waiting knights. “Take the dowager queen to her chambers. She must retire to her mourning bed.”
“No,” Lorelai whispered.
“She is in shock,” Guntram said. “Help her along.”
“I cannot,” Lorelai stammered.
The knights gripped her elbows as Guntram leered at her. “I will come tomorrow to check on you, my sister.” His words were both promise and threat, and they echoed in her ears long after the knights had dragged her away.
4
Bruno’s heart pounded heavily. Something was amiss. Never had he seen so many guards inside the castle, as if every single one had been roused and forced into uniform tonight, the night of the Feast of the Order.
Bruno’s chambers, like the other knights’, occupied the fourth floor of the royal east wing. The king and queen dwelled only one floor above, with two small, private stairways between. Bruno wanted to go there now, but the guards lining the hallway didn’t seem all that willing to let the Order of the Regent run around the castle. He could not tell if Reynald and Marrok had made it back to their rooms.
And where was Taron?
One minute, Bruno was dancing at the feast, awaiting the king, queen, and Taron; the next, the feast was shut down by order of the queen and everyone was asked to return to their quarters on mandatory curfew. They had even provided him with an escort. Best let the guards think he was amenable to whatever the king was commanding. Then he’d find his bond brothers and figure out the truth.
He pushed open the heavy wooden door to his room. The guards made to follow him in, but Bruno halted them. “I’m quite able to prepare myself for bed,” he quipped, stopping them from entering.
“We’ll be right here should you need us,” one of the guards stated.
“If you had a spare damsel in your pocket.” Bruno yawned and stretched. “I could use one of those.”
The guards exchanged a perplexed look as the rogue knight swatted the door shut with his boot.
Bruno felt the cold prick of a blade against the back of his neck as the door clicked shut.
“Did you swear to him?” Reyn’s voice was frigid.
Bruno spun around, flicked his arm up, and grabbed the spear by the shaft, pushing the point to the worn stone floor and lunging with his other hand towards Reyn’s throat. “The king?”
“Is dead,” Marrok finished Bruno’s sentence.
“King Guntram is having everyone swear to him tonight.” Reyn grabbed Bruno’s wrist and yanked it off his neck. “Did you swear to him?”
“In the name of Saint Mael, I did not!”
“I told you, brother.” Marrok leaned against a wooden table. “Now put your spear away before he kills you with his bare hands.”
Reyn and Bruno glared at each other.
“Stand down.” Marrok shook his head. “Guntram will make enough enemies for us if we stand against him. We need not make enemies amongst ourselves.”
“You will not swear fealty to Guntram?” Reyn’s golden eyes flashed at Bruno.
“Have you made your decision so quickly?” Bruno responded with a question.
“I always make my decisions quickly.” Reyn glared. “And no, I will not swear to Guntram.”
Bruno’s grip loosened, and his hand fell to his side as Reyn let his wrist drop. “We
ll, I do not make my decisions so rapidly. But in this, I have. I will not swear to King Guntram either.”
“Something doesn’t feel right about this.” Marrok paced the floor and tapped his fingers against the hilt of his sword.
“I agree.” Reyn threw his body onto a large, red velvet chair, his leg sprawled out in front of him. “The king was sick, but not so severely. We have seen many men die. It takes time. The king was not so ill that he would die in a matter of hours. Something is wrong here. I would bet three gold coins our new king has something to do with it.” He spat “king” out as if the word had somehow been defiled.
Bruno turned to him. “We must go to the queen. We must ensure her safety.”
Marrok folded his arms across his chest. “The queen is in mourning. They will never let us enter.”
“At least we can try,” Bruno said. The corners of his mouth flattened out in a thin line of distaste.
“We cannot make our way through the halls,” Marrok said. “We barely made it into your room. Guards line the hall, which means there will be guards both inside and outside the queen’s room.”
“What of Taron?” Bruno asked.
Reyn shook his head. “He was called to escort the queen to the banquet. We have not seen him since.”
“We checked his room.” Marrok answered Bruno’s unasked question. The knights all had access through hidden doors into each other’s rooms. A liberty never used lightly. But tonight, it was dire.
“Andre is still with the healers. We know not of Taron. That leaves the three of us.” Bruno stared grimly at his brothers-in-arms. “If Guntram walks through that door right now and asks us to swear fealty—”
“And we don’t,” Reyn said defiantly.
“We will be hanged for treason,” Marrok finished.
Bruno snorted. “If we’re lucky. That bastard will probably have us drawn and quartered and stab our heads on spikes off the castle ramparts.”
The three knights looked steadfastly at each other.